


Under Wraps

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, What Are Professional Boundaries?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Junmyeon is up for a starring role of an upcoming drama, his manager Baekhyun has to resort to alternative methods to convince him to take the part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Wraps

When Junmyeon arrives fifteen minutes early for his appointment, Baekhyun's still on the phone, which isn't a surprise to anyone who's even vaguely familiar with Baekhyun. He's always on the phone with someone. He's got the largest roster of anyone in the agency: high profile actors, a cavalcade of models and a few idols looking to branch out and rebrand themselves for a career beyond their respective singing groups. Still, Junmyeon's a bonafide, capital-s _Star_ , and someone of his caliber could _easily_ get away with pitching a fit about it, if he were that sort of person. But he's always had a mild temperament, the type of disposition that sent directors and costars clamoring to the press about how much they love to work with Junmyeon, how eager they are to repeat the experience on future projects.

Junmyeon accepts a blue glass bottle of sparkling water from the receptionist and sits awkwardly on the couch wedged in Baekhyun's cramped corner office. He waits patiently for his turn, rolling the unopened bottle to his fingertips and back, feeling the damp label wrinkle and peel away, trying to listen to Baekhyun's half of the conversation while simultaneously feigning disinterest.

"You're my priority," Baekhyun's saying, and chooses that exact moment to glance over at Junmyeon. He mouths a greeting and then rolls his eyes: "Yeah. Chanyeol, how long have we known each other?"— _pause_ —"And you _still_ —yes. Yes. I'll take care of you, I always do."

Junmyeon points at the door, meaning to ask if he should wait outside, but Baekhyun takes an entirely different tack.

"Chanyeol, my dude, I am late for my next appointment. I promise you I will do my best. We can discuss it at lunch later this week?— _Perfect._ I'll have my assistant call and confirm. Yes. Cool. Catch you later." He drops the phone back in its cradle. "Christ."

"How's Chanyeol doing?"

"Mad as hell that he came second to Minho for some job. Like he's really the best man for an action flick. Anyway!" He leans back in his chair, hands behind his head in an exaggerated pose of relaxation. "You look good. What's up?"

"You called this meeting," Junmyeon says patiently. "You tell me."

Confusion clouds Baekhyun's eyes for half a second before the answer hits him. "Yes. This script was passed along to me by someone at tvN. They're interested in you for the lead." He's pushing papers around on his desk as he speaks, moving manila inter-office envelopes and legal pads aside before his hands alight on a thick packet held together by two shiny brass brads.

"I didn't want to do another drama—"

"I know, I know," Baekhyun says. "I said I'd pass it along to you. I, uh—I've got the coverage somewhere around here, but it sounds like it could be a hit. I know you're trying to get away from the romantic comedy roles, but honestly, this role would be good for you." 

Junmyeon flips through the first few pages skeptically. "It took four roles before they stopped talking about _Unforgettable Flower Boy_." He actually winces when he says it, recalling too many mob scenes in the mall, or even on the streets. Even women old enough to be his mother would shout _Oppa!_ at him until he turned around, which consternated him to no end, especially when he was just trying to do a bit of inconspicuous shopping on one of his rare days off.

"You're just too damn handsome," says Baekhyun, smiling in that way that makes him look like a toothpaste commercial. "I know the feeling."

Junmyeon looks at the title. _Inevitable Love._ There's a stylized heart on the cover, drawn to look like the face of a watch.

"Take it home. Read it. We'll talk about it," Baekhyun encourages, and then looks at his watch. "Ah, shit. I've got a meeting. You'll let me know when you've finished it? I'm excited to hear what you think."

The television's on loudly enough to hear from the lobby when Junmyeon arrives home that evening. He listens to it the whole elevator ride up to the penthouse suite, already grinning from ear to ear when the doors slide open and Baekhyun's right there in his living room, sprawled in an armchair. Gone is the smart shirt-and-tie combination he'd been sporting this morning, and in its stead, a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt with _K B A O_ emblazoned across the front in peeling screen-printed letters.

"Are you sure that's loud enough? I don't think they can quite hear you in Busan."

"The cleaning service came by today, I see," Baekhyun says, eyes still trained on the television although he _does_ fumble for the remote and turn it down a few clicks. "First time I've seen your couch without piles of laundry on it in quite some time. Do you even recognize where you are right now?"

The apartment's much too big for one person—a luxury Junmyeon had allowed himself after his career had taken off enough that he could finally take care of his parents in the manner he'd always wanted—but he finds a way to fill it with things anyway. Hundreds of books lining the walls—classics, comic books, books on the industry, historical books leftover from the research he'd done after his _sageuk_ drama. An entire shelf of leather-bound encyclopedias, because he'd run out of his own collection and still had space beyond his wildest dreams, and thought— _well, why not._ He's even taken them out a few times, although their pages are yellow and brittling and each time he turns one over he comes away with a little more of the loose binding in his hands.

Still, despite an entire room of walk-in closets, Junmyeon just... can't be bothered to hang up his clothes after he's finished wearing them. When he gets home at the end of the day (or, if he's filming a drama, it's more like 6AM) he just wants to get comfortable, much like Baekhyun's already done. The couch is usually decorated with an array of suit coats, t-shirts, and trousers—most of which would probably be decent to wear if they weren't wrinkled all to hell.

"Have you read it yet?" Baekhyun asks, the television on mute now. He slides down further in the chair, both legs slung over the arm, neck craned at an awkward angle to look up at Junmyeon. He's got Junmyeon's copy of the script propped up against his knees.

"No," Junmyeon admits, jamming a hand into his hair, mussing it a little. It's not exactly true: he's read the first act. It's not terrible, and he even laughed out loud in a few places, but it feels too much like taking two steps back after making considerable progress. "Long day, and I just—honestly, Baekhyun, I don't really want to do another one of these things."

" _Read it,_ " Baekhyun insists, getting to his feet. "You'll have plenty of opportunities to do other things. Why wouldn't you take a role like this when it lands in your lap?"

"You just want your 10%."

"We both win, yes, and a payday for you is a payday for me, but—Junmyeon, I'm your manager. I know what you're capable of achieving, and I think this is a good opportunity for you to get back on TV. And I know you were happiest there, even if the shooting schedule wasn't ideal." Baekhyun pushes out of the chair and stands on the balls of his feet, sweatpants caught underneath his heels. Junmyeon knows these speeches of his by heart, the same ones he gives to all of his clients.

"I didn't say I _couldn't_ do it, but is it the right choice for me?"

"Yes," Baekhyun says simply. He runs his hands down the paper spines of Junmyeon's script collection, housed in the same unit as the encyclopedia set, a soft sort of satisfaction on his face. "You're very talented, you know."

"Talent means I didn't do anything," Junmyeon says. "It's more of a compliment to say that I work hard."

"You do that, too." Something in Baekhyun slackens enough for his hand to slide up Junmyeon's arm, closing the distance between them with an affectionate smile. He accepts the kiss Junmyeon delivers to his mouth with his eyes still wide-open. " _Especially_ when you're naked," he teases, lips still lingering on Junmyeon's.

Junmyeon laughs brightly. Back in the days when they'd first started this relationship, they'd been stupid about it, fucking in the office right on Baekhyun's desk when most of the partners had gone home for the day. And then Junmyeon had wised up and realized no matter how he felt about Baekhyun (which was normally pretty favorable, unless he'd gone and done something like double-booked him for an audition), it would not be appropriate if he had hickeys in the shape of Baekhyun's mouth decorating his neck at press conferences and red carpet events. He's supposed to be single—he's supposed to be straight. He's not supposed to be _dating his fucking manager, of all people._

He's not doing well at sticking to this image they've crafted for him.

Back when Junmyeon had first signed on to be represented by Baekhyun's firm, he'd thought Baekhyun was smooth—but no, no way. Not when it's just the two of them walking backwards to topple onto the couch like an odd four-legged beast, Baekhyun's hands roaming over the curve of Junmyeon's ass, exasperated by Junmyeon's underwear, groping it with a ferocity he saves for when they're behind closed doors. Junmyeon's body shakes with laughter, but Baekhyun's laughing too, and Junmyeon feels as though he's been hit over the head with how much he really likes him, more than just wanting to fuck him—there's something weirdly endearing about a dude who doesn't try to be perfect (or even all that coordinated) during sex and just does whatever crosses his mind first, whatever feels good.

Which is why Junmyeon's taken aback when Baekhyun doesn't get right down to business, so to speak. "Let's read the script," Baekhyun suggests instead when he's got Junmyeon flat on his back on the couch, reaching up for Baekhyun's neck to draw him nearer, always nearer.

Junmyeon freezes, his fists full of Baekhyun's shirt. "What. Now?"

"No time like the present," Baekhyun says, producing the script from only-god-knows-where, flipping to the fifth page (the first appearance of Junmyeon's character) and reciting in a scratchy, feminine voice: "Yes, excuse me, _ahjussi_ —"

Junmyeon doesn't know how to react. His signals are crossed. Baekhyun's got one hand around his cock, script page pinned in place under the thumb of his other hand. Junmyeon opens his mouth to retort and grunts instead as a well-timed stroke from Baekhyun renders him speechless.

"What did you call me?" Baekhyun prompts, waving the script. He drops the girly voice. "Come on, _ahjussi_ , are you past your prime? Should I give this to Chanyeol instead? He's looking for a role like this—I wanted it for you, but maybe I should be looking for different things for you. Something a little easier?"

These kind of taunts always work. Junmyeon dedicated his life to this work and he'll be damned if anyone tries to take it away from him before he's ready to let it go. He grinds out the next line, hyperaware of the pressure of _each_ of Baekhyun's fingers as they wrap around his cock, hard now and wet at the tip, and squeeze, one at a time.

"Ow— _ah_ , yes, Baekhyun—" Junmyeon groans, pushing Baekhyun's jeans down around his thighs. "Let me just—" and then doesn't say what he _just_ wants to do, although he doesn't need to. They've been in this relationship long enough that Baekhyun can guess what it is.

"Next line," Baekhyun says, not insisting on immediate reciprocity for once. He really must want Junmyeon to take this part if he's sacrificing a mouth on his dick in exchange for a line reading. Junmyeon takes note of this reaction and files it away for later, after he's taken his fill from Baekhyun. Not enough blood in his brain to puzzle this out at the moment. He pushes Baekhyun away and into a seated position and crawls on to straddle his lap. 

The curtains are wide open— _anyone could see_ —but they're on the top floor, and Junmyeon's sick of hiding this, of taking every precaution to leave fifteen minutes apart whenever they've been somewhere together, to keep remembering what he'd worn the day before to avoid looking suspicious. He's always attending events with Baekhyun and wanting to kiss him in public when he shows up on the red carpet with one sock and a novelty tie like a fucking college kid even though Baekhyun's a well-respected presence in the entertainment scene and _should_ dress himself better. He _wants_ to—until he remembers that their careers are both at stake, and chickens out at the last minute, usually making a point to wander off to avoid the curious stares. 

But after all these years, on all those red carpets, in front of all those cameras, _somebody_ must have noticed the way Junmyeon looks at Baekhyun. He feels like he's on fire every time he does. There's no way this can stay a secret forever.

Baekhyun is more careful now that Junmyeon's braced over top of him, slowing his pace enough to allow for Junmyeon to catch his breath and choke out his lines. He'd studied like this once before, for an audition over at KBS—the _sageuk_ , in fact; he'd won the part handily over the other actors despite being a relatively unknown commodity at the time, and he attributes Baekhyun's dick (at least partially) to his success.

(There's no way he'll admit this to Baekhyun. He's too much of a fucking narcissist to take it for the joke that it is mostly meant to be.)

"Did anyone ever tell you," Baekhyun murmurs, running his mouth along the ridge of Junmyeon's shoulder, maddeningly slow, nearly sweet. He's nearly purring, these filthy, inarticulate noises tumbling out of his mouth. The cool air of the apartment on Junmyeon's damp skin is downright frigid and he wants to climb off and turn up the thermostat a few degrees but he's got his hands full with Baekhyun, and it's going to be hot in here in half an hour or so, anyway, if everything carries on in this direction. 

Gooseflesh rises on Junmyeon's skin, even with the warmth of Baekhyun's body pressing him into the couch cushions. He waits, hiding the curve of his smile in Baekhyun's throat, but Baekhyun doesn't seem intent on finishing that sentence. "Tell me what," he laughs, rolling his hips. It's a feeble attempt at dislodging Baekhyun—he's like a creeping vine when he puts his mind to it and there's no way he's going anywhere.  
   
"You just smell really good," Baekhyun grunts, and now his nose is in Junmyeon's hair, inhaling, can't get enough of him. "Like honey bread or something."

"Shut up," Junmyeon says darkly, a growl lodged in the back of his throat. "That trainer you sent me to—I'm not allowed to have carbs at all this month—all because of that _stupid_ CF you've got me filming—"

Baekhyun bursts out laughing but he quickly sobers up when he sees Junmyeon isn't laughing along with him. "You poor thing," he says, sounding appropriately sympathetic. His mouth reverses direction and starts kissing down Junmyeon's throat. "I—next time—as soon as you're finished—my place—you can have a cheat day—we can go get whatever you want and eat it in bed if we want—"

Junmyeon huffs, trying not to flinch away from Baekhyun's probing fingertips, despite how ticklish he feels, because flinching means he's admitting defeat, which _also_ means that if Baekhyun discovers a weakness, he's prone to doing something twice as much. Baekhyun's at his chest now, licking one of Junmyeon's nipples, fingers pinching the other one, rolling it between the pads of his fingers. "Ow—okay, _wow_ , that actually feels pretty good." 

"So I've been told," Baekhyun says, and then sinks his teeth into the flesh around Junmyeon's nipple. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that sparks of pain shoot up Junmyeon's chest, mixing with the arousal in his veins, pushing Junmyeon's body more firmly into Baekhyun's. 

"Jesus," he wheezes. "You—changed gears pretty quickly there," Junmyeon babbles. "A little heads up would be nice."

Baekhyun bites him again, playfully, then kisses the red marks left behind. "No," he says. "Where's the fun in that?"

Later, when they've given up all pretense of trying to study and Junmyeon's bouncing on Baekhyun's dick, holding himself up on Baekhyun's chest with his splayed hands, knees straddling his lap, he keeps bending forward to kiss Baekhyun. In return, Baekhyun keeps biting at his lips, breathing heavily, moaning hungrily— _God, you feel so good_. The script has been all but forgotten by now, kicked somewhere on the floor for Junmyeon to deal with later, when he's done with this. He swivels his hips around, the sound of skin slapping on skin loud enough to compete with the still-blaring television, watching Baekhyun's eyes flick back into his head with each snap of his pelvis. 

"Shit," Baekhyun wails, his voice twisting into nothing, and then he comes, his body arching rigidly underneath Junmyeon. Junmyeon fights against Baekhyun's frozen hands enough to rock himself back and forth in Baekhyun's lap, aching, so close to release, feeling Baekhyun let go through the condom. Baekhyun holds him as steady as he can with only one hand and uses the other one to pull huge sweeping strokes up Junmyeon's dick until he can't hold back anymore, throbbing, wrung out and coming, Baekhyun still buried inside him as deep as he can go.

Baekhyun pulls Junmyeon into him, still wet and sticky, his stomach slick with jizz. He's breathing heavily and his hair is damp at the tips with sweat, curling around his ears and making him look ten years younger than he is. Instead of pulling out and going to clean himself up like he usually does, he busies himself by kissing every inch of Junmyeon's face. He's chuckling again like he never stopped, like this had been a happy accident and he hadn't come over tonight with the express purpose of fucking Junmyeon. 

"Did I convince you to go read for the part?" Baekhyun asks, retrieving a flung t-shirt from the arm of the couch (probably Junmyeon's, knowing his luck) and starts mopping halfheartedly at his stomach.. Junmyeon can feel his thighs fusing together with the sweat and semen. He wants to get up and head directly to the shower, but the moment between them will be over as soon as he does that, so he stays put for just a little while longer.

"Alright," Junmyeon says at last, all fucked out and sweetly confused, like it had ever _really_ been a question—of course he'll take it, _it's a job_ , this is what he loves, and Baekhyun knows that, knew that when he handed him the script. He hides his smile behind Baekhyun's ear, still curled in his lap, safe and warm and sated. "You did. I'll take it."

Junmyeon recognizes Chanyeol at the table read for _Inevitable Love_ before he even turns around. There's no mistaking that towering height, the tell-tale bow of his legs, and that laugh. His face splits into a sunny smile, all teeth and exuberance, when he turns and spies Junmyeon at the end of the table, a script in his hand and a bottle of water tucked under his arm.

"Hyung!" he booms in his perpetually not-for-outdoors voice, bounding over like an overexcited puppy. "You came!"

Junmyeon realizes that in Baekhyun's haste to get him from the couch to the bedroom for a second round, he may have left out a few crucial details about this drama.

Like who'd be playing the second lead.

**Author's Note:**

> written for [baektobaek 2015](http://baektobaek.livejournal.com).


End file.
